Last Run

The gravel crunched under my asics. I ran by the red roofed barns and the grazing black cows. I passed the clump of black-eyed susans, with their gold petals and their fuzzy gumdrop centers. The sky held ribbons of overcast gray and the oak trees towered above me. My favorite road to run on.

To the tunes of Ingrid Michaelson on my ipod, I gave myself over to a moment of sadness. Not because I will miss this road (though I will), but because I am so grateful for the time I've been given.

I've decided that everyone should experience a significant move. Not for the boxes, sorting, cleaning, headaches, backaches, and tremendous amount of work. But because when you know you are leaving, you savor everything.

In the last two weeks, I've been given the gift of time to savor this place and especially the people here. I've savored the hugs, the farewell dinners, the affection and love that sits on the surface of every conversation and every goodbye. I have savored the stolen minutes of time with friends--reminiscing, cheering for our SYTYCD favorites, gingerbread cakes, trips to the pool, playdates for the kids, and yes, even packing into the wee hours of the night (thank you Lisa!)

And the biggest gift of all. Amelia's eyes. Healed. Perfectly. And so our extended time here has truly be a gift.

So I gave myself over to tears as I ran this morning. And for a small moment I allowed myself to wonder, how can I leave this place and these people who have been so good to me? And I wondered how these next two years will change me. Surely I'll have more wrinkles, but will I also have more gratitude, more charity, more savoring moments? I hope so.

And so, farewell road. Until next time, when my feet pound the gravel. And I again get to listen to morning crickets and breathe in the Virginia air. When I'm surrounded by hellos instead of goodbyes.

Until then, I will miss you.